It Takes Me Back
by alyssialui
Summary: Various smells bring back memories we may or may not want to remember. A collection of unrelated drabbles. Currently: Lucius is taking care of little Draco when he finds his old leather jacket.
1. Peter Pettigrew

_A/N: The smell of bitter oranges brings back memories of the woman who Peter just now realized was really looking out for him._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - petitgrain - Peter Pettigrew_

_**Ascend-The-Ladder Competition!: **Round 1 - A familiar smell_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

Peter stood among the other black cloaks, his attention focused not on Dolohov's instructions for their raid but on the overpowering smell around them. His nostrils burnt from the acrid smell of bitter oranges from the tree above them in the backyard of a Muggle home. He hadn't been this suffocated by the smell since he last hugged his mum almost ten years ago, the scent of petitgrain lingering on her skin.

It was one of her favourites, her trademark and it helped him often as a child when he was making mischief. He could smell her a mile away, enabling him to make a quick getaway before the smell got too strong and his nose began to run.

It was there for breakfasts, lunches, dinners, bedtimes, bathtimes, birthdays, Christmases, and it was even on all the letters she had ever sent to him while at Hogwarts. It was a smell he associated with love and care, worry and regret. His mother was there for him like no one else one, she believed him like no one else could and she wanted the best for him. He doubted she would be happy with his life choices and where they had led him to.

There was a sudden longing in his heart now. He wished he could hug her one more time, to smell it in her embrace and feel like home again, like he belonged and was loved again. She would return his feelings and listen to his woes and sins, forgive him for his wrongs for he was truly regretful for everything in his life.

"Rat, you listening?" Dolohov barked, pulling him back to the situation to hand.

Peter squeaked. He had heard nothing of what the man had said but he knew not ask him to repeat. He would just have to push the smell out of his head and follow someone else's lead, as he had been all his life.


	2. Arthur Weasley

_A/N: Arthur and Molly take a walk through the orange grove. Molly/Arthur._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge)****: **Armani Code Luna - Bergamot (Arthur Weasley)_

* * *

Arthur held his wife's hand as they took a leisurely stroll through the orchard behind the Burrow. Since the house had emptied and their children had gone on to having children of their own, Arthur had invested his time in the trees and returning the grove to its former glory.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely smell of oranges prime for picking. He would soon have to do some harvesting, though in his older age, he might have to get the help of his grandchildren as well. He could make a day of it, maybe even a little competition to get things moving quickly.

It brought him to memories when his own children were younger, running beneath the apple and orange trees with large baskets, the smaller ones waiting for the him, Bill and Charlie to drop the fruit down. There was always laughter, always smiles, everything was right.

"You smell it too," his wife murmured beside him as they walked, observing the wistful look on his face. Bergamot, she told him, when he identified the smell in a perfume he had bought her once. They had reminisced then and he was reminiscing now.

"Yes," he said. "The smell of memories."


	3. Filius Flitwick

_A/N: Filius hates pears._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - pear - Filius Flitwick_

* * *

Filius climbed onto his chair between Pomona and Septima at the Heads' Table, waiting almost impatiently for breakfast to appear for the morning. He had had a long night before grading papers and making a new lesson plan for his Sixth Years, and he needed a good meal and a large cup of tea to wake him up fully.

He didn't have to wait long before all the tables in the hall were laden with a bounteous feast fit for a king. Those house-elves always outdid themselves at every meal trying to feed all the students on time.

"Oh, it's pear season again," Pomona said, clapping her hands in delight before taking one of the fruit from the bowl. She picked it up with her other hand and held it out to him. "Filius?"

The sweet smell of the lovely yellow-green fruit reached his nose, but instead of picking one up, he politely declined. He had had enough of the fruit in his youth.

He had been in the prime of his duelling career and his coach always lauded the benefits of having a pear a day. He would make sure that Filius and his teammates always had one for breakfast and before and after their training sessions.

This took place over the course of three years, and Filius began to detest the fruit and everything it stood for. There were often times when he pushed himself to point of throwing up, only to be met with the sick smell of the partially digested food. When he gave up duelling, the first thing he stopped was his pear intake, wanting nothing more to do with it for the rest of his life.

He reached forward to pour himself that cup of tea now. He needed it more than ever to get the smell of pears out of his nose.


	4. Fred Weasley

_A/N: Fred picks oranges for George's cold._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - orange - Fred Weasley_

* * *

Fred sat under the trees at the back of the Burrow, his back against the truck as he made notes about a new invention in one of his notebooks. It seemed he was out here by himself today since George had come down with a wicked cold and was quarantined in their room for the next few days.

Fred took a deep breath before making a face, the rancid smell of an over-ripe orange assaulting his nostrils. How he hated oranges. They reminded him off the times he would get sick and his mother would force him to eat the sour things.

He stood up and looked into the tree above. There were many oranges on the tree this time of year, many of them ripening without anyone to eat them and thereby soon to litter the floor and make the orchard a horrible place to sit.

Fred sighed before he placed his book down on the roots of the tree and began to climb. It would be good for someone to benefit from these things even if he hated the buggers.

Ten minutes later, he knocked on his room door. "Special delivery for the prat in room three," Fred announced.

"He's currently out doing Merlin knows what. Can I take a message?" was the cheeky answer George supplied.

Fred chuckled as he pushed the door open. George really did look like a right mess. There was a rag draped across his forehead and his blanket was pulled up to his neck. He greeted Fred with a sneeze and Fred instinctively pulled his arm over his nose before dropping the bowl of orange halves on his brother's lap.

"Oranges?" George asked he took up one.

"Mum always gives me these when I'm sick, remember," Fred said.

"So you climbed the tree and braved the smell you hate so much just for me?" George asked.

Fred said nothing and George watched his brother playing with the ends of the blanket on his legs. "Thanks," George said.

"Now eat them all for I won't be picking more and they're close to over-ripening," Fred said as he rose from the bed and moved towards the door.

George mock-saluted at his brother's retreating back, "Yes, Mum."


	5. Luna Lovegood

_A/N: Luna plants some morning glories outside her home._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - mirabilis - Luna_

_**The Places We Can Go Competition: **Lovegood House (place), A Fire (event)_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft &amp; Wizardry (Challenges &amp; Assignments): **DADA Assignment #3 - Write about a character protecting or defending another character._

* * *

The morning found Luna kneeling in the flowerbed under the kitchen window in her yard clothes and apron, kneading the soil with gloved hands. It was one of the many things on her list of chores. Once it was soft and aerated, she transplanted the lovely purple flowers into the bed. Since her mother's passing, Luna had been trying to keep the garden and flowerbeds in their former glory but no one could match her mother's gardening prowess.

She leaned down and took a deep breath. These were her mother's favourite flowers and they always reminded her of many afternoons when Luna was small and she would walk through the flowers with her. Her mother would tell her fascinating stories about plants, flowers and their uses in potions and spells, and even though Luna was too young to fully understand, she'd follow along as best she could.

Now that she was older, she treasured everything her mother ever told her and continued her mother's work. With the last morning glory placed in the bed, Luna leaned back and admired her handiwork. It wasn't the same as before but she knew it would take time. This place would need a lot of work to bring it back to how it was before the fire.

Luna inhaled sharply. That had been a rough night. She had been sleeping upstairs when her father burst into her room. His eyes were wild, his hair uncombed and his clothes hanging off his shoulders, but lately, this was not a strange occurrence. After the end of the War, her father's mental state had began to deteriorate. He forgot things more often and needed a lot more help getting things done around the house. There were times in the night, he would wake up disoriented and slightly lost, coming into her room to ensure she was still there. She figured the guilt of her kidnapping must ride on his mind during the nights.

However, that night was different. He had been mumbling, whimpering, his hands twitching to grab her out of bed. There was the faint smell of burnt hair and fabric on his skin. Then she smelled the smoke and saw the thick dark clouds filling the space above the spiral stairs outside her room.

She grabbed her wand and her robe before pulling her confused father out of her room and into the hallway. They both began to cough as the smoke stung their eyes and throat. Luna turned to her father worriedly, knowing that this smoke couldn't be good for him.

They had run down the spiral stairs but Luna almost stumbled when she saw the state of her living room. All their furniture was on fire, the trinkets and photographs on the walls and shelves engulfed in flames and charred. All those memories would be gone forever.

A creaking noise cut through Luna's sadness. She looked up to see the ceiling caving in, the heat weakening the second floor boards before it finally caved in and landed on the blaze with a loud crash. She pulled her father closer to her, shielding his body from the heat of the flames which grew with the added fuel of her bedroom furniture. They could no longer get to the front door and the smoke was getting thicker.

Luna thought fast and aimed her wand to the wall behind her. "Reducto!" she cried, created a large hole in the side of their home for the two of them to jump out of.

The image of her house in flames was still imprinted on Luna's mind. Large plumes of smoke spiralled from the burning rook on the hill, blocking out the sprinkle of stars in the night sky. She turned to her father who was lying on his stomach in the grass. He looked weak, scared but he was alright for now.

Luna didn't know what to do next so she sent a Patronus to the first person she could think of. Within minutes, Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys and a few of the remaining Order members were on the scene. They all held their wands and helped her put out the flames.

When everything was out, she was finally able to calm down her father enough to find out about the fire. He had woken up and put on a kettle on the stove and then forgotten about it.

That night, they had stayed at the Weasleys who were more than welcoming in her time of need. She was forever grateful for their help. The damage however had been extensive: the living room, kitchen and her bedroom had been ruined, the fallen ceiling/second floor, the windows had exploded from the heat and singed the flowerbeds and nearby trees, the trinkets and photographs were damaged but a few were salvageable.

She also figured it was for the best to admit her father to a home. She didn't want to but he needed someone to watch him constantly, something she was unable to do.

Luna repotted one of the morning glories. Maybe she could take one to her father today when she visited him.


	6. Neville Longbottom

_A/N: Neville takes his mum out to smell the flowers. Neville/Alice mother-son bonding._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - orange blossom - Neville Longbottom_

* * *

Neville smiled as he pushed his mother's wheelchair across the terrace of St Mungo's rooftop garden. He was happy they finally decided to install this oasis for the patients to get some fresh air and after a lot of pleading on his part, Doris allowed him to take his mother outside. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about his dad. Doris wouldn't let up on him, especially since he was in a bit of a mood this morning. He would have to take his dad out some other time.

The garden had a wide array of plants, trees and flowers, both magical and Muggle and Neville had a lovely time explaining each and every one of them to his mother. The cattails meowed as he tugged on them and the large red and white roses were in full bloom, filling the air with their lovely fragrance.

Neville was talking about the properties of a particularly large purple flower with oddly-shaped brown leaves when his mum suddenly tugged on his arm. He paused and looked into her face.

"Mum, is something the matter?" he asked, taking her hand and running his thumb over her knuckles. Doris had told him that if his mum should start to get restless he should take her inside and though he didn't want their time to end, he wouldn't want to make his mum uncomfortable.

She however didn't seem uncomfortable. She was fixated on something right over his shoulder, her eyes intently focused on something small, so he turned around.

Behind him was a large orange tree providing much shade to the terrace. The tree was in bloom, no fruit as of yet but releasing a lovely smell from the many small white flowers. He picked one of the blossoms and took a deep breath. He had always loved their smell. It had been a part of him for as far as he could remember but he could never place its origin.

He held one out under his mum's nose. Her eyes moved to the blossom in his hand though she didn't inhale deeply like he did. She didn't have to really. Orange blossoms had a lovely fragrance that was hard to ignore.

"So you like orange blossoms?" he said with a smile before placing the blossom in her hands and picking more. "I'll place a few in your room so you can continue smelling them."

* * *

_It was a fine day in August when Alice decided to take baby Neville outside for some fresh air. She sat beneath the large orange tree in the backyard, spreading a large red blanket underneath her as she enjoyed the lovely shade. Orange blossoms were always her favourite and it was nice to just relax sometimes._

_Neville was sitting on her lap, his little hands reaching up towards the small white flowers all over the tree._

_Alice smiled as she picked up one of the fallen blossoms and held them under Neville's nose. He sneezed a bit before grabbing onto the blossom himself._

_"Oh, so you like orange blossoms?" she said with a smile before she grabs a few more to put within the baby's reach._


	7. Salazar Slytherin

_A/N: Salazar finds an old bottle of rum in his liquor cabinet. Salazar/Helga. Founders' Era._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Osmanthus - Salazar Slytherin_

_**Ship Til You Drop Bi-weekly Competition: **Round 2 - Salazar/Helga_

_***2015* New Years Millionaire Fanfiction Resolutions &amp; Goals Competition!: **Founders' Era_

_****Hogwarts School of Witchcraft &amp; Wizardry (Challenges &amp; Assignments): ****Herbology Assignment #3 - Write about a friend or romantic partner giving someone flowers. Prompt: rum, cloth_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

Salazar rifled through his liquor cabinet in need of a stiff drink. That blasted Gryffindor was getting on his last nerve. If he hadn't had so much invested in this school, he would just leave. It would be easy actually. He could form his own school and offer private tutoring to the worthy and the gifted, not the riff-raff he insisted on letting in.

Salazar reached deep into the back and pulled out an old bottle of rum. The bottle was brown and covered in dust and grime. He grabbed a nearby cloth to clean it a bit, but that didn't help him identify it any better. The label was written in some foreign language and looked as if it had been bought years ago. Where had he gotten this from?

He popped the cork and the smell of apricots and peaches filled the air, mingled with the alluring smell of alcohol, and that's when he remembered where this bottle had come from.

_"I know we said we wouldn't exchange presents today but I got you something any way," he had said before pulling the bouquet from behind his back. "Happy St Valentine's Day, my darling."_

_"These are just lovely, Salazar," the blonde said as she held the flowers to her nose. "But now I have nothing to give you," she said._

_"You don't have to get me anything at all, Helga. Your lovely smile is gift enough," he said as he brought to him and placed a kiss on her cheek._

_She blushed before her eyes lit up. "No, I do have something," she said as she ran into her kitchen. There was a bit of commotion before she returned to him and held out a bottle. "This is bottle of rum I got from my travels, very precious and very rare. I want you to have it."_

_"Helga, no I couldn't," he said but she had already thrust it into his hands._

_"Take it, and whenever you drink it, you'll think of me," she said with a smile. Then she held the bouquet up between them. "It actually smells a bit like these, one of my favourite flowers in the world."_

_"Osmanthus," Salazar said as he held her close to him once more, taking a deep breath of the lovely fragrance. "I know. You've told me."_

He poured the rum into a tumbler and threw his head back, drinking it down in one gulp. That had been years ago, from a time when they were closer, lovers, soul-mates. "Helga," he muttered under his breath.

She was the light that brightened his day, the air that blew through his lungs. She was life like all the plants she cared for and the flowers she loved to teach him about. She was the reason he could not completely leave this place. She was the reason he put up with Gryffindor's hair-brained ideas. And he was the reason they hadn't spoken to each other alone since.

"Helga," he said once more as he poured another glass of rum.


	8. Nymphadora Tonks

_A/N: Tonks remembers her father's love of tonka beans with his tea. Andromeda/Tonks mother-daughter moment._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - tonka beans - Nymphadora Tonks_

* * *

Nymphadora threw herself down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table as she flicked her wand at her mother's kettle. Raising an infant was a lot of work and she hadn't been sleeping well lately. Remus was a darling father and husband, but he was also so busy with work and stressed with the full moon coming, that she didn't want him to be burdened too much.

However, today she needed a bit of help, so while Remus was at the Ministry, she had come to spend the day with her mother. Currently, her mum was trying to get the little darling to take a nap while she had run downstairs in need of a break.

When the kettle began to whistle, Dora rose from her seat and poured her and her mother a cup. She was sure she would need a cup too as soon as Teddy was down.

She brought her cup to her lips and almost spat out the hot liquid all over the kitchen counter, the bland taste of the flavoured water on her tongue. In her sleep-deprived state, she had completely forgotten to add sugar.

She moved towards the cupboards above her mother's stove and began to feel around. If her memory served her correctly (though the previous incident proved that she couldn't depend on it), her mother always kept the sugar pot in here away from moisture.

Her fingertips touched smooth glass and she grinned to herself before pulling the jar out. However, instead of sugar, she had pulled out a jar of black beans.

"Tonka beans," Dora whispered, their smell slipping out beneath the lid.

_"Dad, what are those?" Dora asked, her eyes bright as she watched her father pull the jar of strange black beans out of the cupboard above the stove. It was tea-time and her father had just poured a cup for himself, her mother and herself before he went for the jar._

_"Tonka beans," her father said, placing the jar down and reaching for the grater in one of the kitchen drawers._

_"Why do you need them?" Dora asked again, still not satisfied with his answer._

_Her father threw a few of the beans out in his hand and placed them on the counter before taking one and dragging it across the rough metallic surface. "I need it for my tea," he explained as the black powder fell into his teacup._

_"Why can't you just use sugar like me and Mum?" Dora asked, holding up her small teacup._

_"I like a little bit of difference with my tea," her father said. He then took up one of the whole beans and tossed it into his mouth and began chewing, then continued grating another bean into his cup._

_Dora's eyes moved from his moving hands to the bean in his mouth before she held out her hand, "Can I have one?"_

_"I don't think you want one, dear," her mother said, pushing her hand down. "They can taste awfully bitter at first, especially if you eat the bean. Your father is just weird in that he likes bitter things."_

_"Hey," her father said, spinning to look at the two of them at the table. "I'm not weird and I like you, don't I?"_

_"Are you calling me bitter, dear?" her mother asked._

_Her father just grinned. "You said it, not me." He then picked up one of the beans off the counter and brought it over to the table with his teacup. He handed it to Dora as he took his seat. "Let her make her own opinion, dear."_

_Dora looked at the bean in her hand and then to her mum's face. "Fine," her mother said and Dora gave her a bright, toothy smile. She then tossed the bean into her mouth and began to chew._

_"Blegh!" Dora said, spitting the remnants of the bean onto the kitchen table, her hair turning a strange mix of dark brown and puce green. Her mum and dad simply laughed and her mum grabbed one of the dishcloths and wiped up the mess. "I told you she wouldn't like it, Ted."_

_Dora frowned and her father just chuckled, before rubbing a hand across her back. "Like your mum said, it's an acquired taste and maybe I'm just weird," he said._

Nymphadora placed the jar on the table and wiped away the few tears in her eyes. She never did acquire the taste like her father had and she had thought him crazy to love the taste, but now, there would be no one else to eat them.

"Teddy is finally sleeping now," her mum said as she entered the room. Dora didn't move, but continued to stare at the jar with tears on her cheek.

"Dear, why are you-" her mother began to ask but her words stopped in her throat as her eyes fell on the jar on the counter, the tonka beans that she could never get herself to throw out, even after all these months without Ted.

Her mother walked up behind her and pulled her into a hug. "I miss him too and all his strange quirks, but he wouldn't want us crying over a jar like a couple of silly gooses. He would want us to smile and be happy."

"I know, Mum. But it's just so hard sometimes. Sometimes I'm okay, and then I see small things like this that bring back strong memories of things I took for granted at the time."

Her mother rubbed her back consolingly. "Then treasure them now, dear. They are still your memories that you shared with him and you alone can experience them all over again."

Dora smiled before she opened the jar, the smell seeming to fill the room now. She threw two beans onto her hands and gave one to her mum. "For dad?"

"For dad," her mum said as they both chewed a bean. It was bitter, just as before but it brought back such sweet memories.


	9. Narcissa Malfoy

_A/N: Narcissa prepares tea for sick Draco. young!Draco._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - vanilla - Narcissa Malfoy_

* * *

A soft sneeze behind Narcissa quickened her stirring of the small teacup on the kitchen counter. The kitchen was lit in a soft orange glow of the candles which hung in the chandelier above but it offered little warmth on this drafty night. That's what this cup of tea was for. It seemed that Draco had came down with a case of the sniffles and was having trouble getting back to sleep. All he needed was something warm to help clear up his chest and he'd be fine.

Narcissa opened the cupboard at her eye-level and pull out a few things. She threw in a mint leaf, a spoonful of honey, two things she knew would help her little boy but there was one more thing she needed. She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small bottle of vanilla near the back. Her mum used to add vanilla to her tea when she was sick or it was cold or even just because.

_Narcissa sneezed before grabbing the bottom of her nightgown and rubbing across her running nose. It had been a cold night, and even with the socks on her feet, Narcissa's sneezes wouldn't stop. Unfortunately, her sneezing had woken not just her mum but her sisters as well and now she was sitting at the dining table with her sisters while their mum stood at the kitchen counter near the kettle._

_"Cissy!" Dromeda said, swatting her little hand away from her dress. She grabbed a napkin from the dining table and wiped across the younger girl's face. "You shouldn't use your clothes to wipe your face."_

_Narcissa gave her sister a sad look before she sneezed again. She couldn't help it really. Dromeda just sighed and wiped the little girl's nose once more._

_"Stop babying her, Dromeda. If she wants to use her dress like a gutter-child, then let her," Bella said as she sat on Dromeda's other side, her arms crossed over her chest._

_Dromeda just glared at the older girl before she put her own hands back in her lap, handing Narcissa the napkin to wipe her own nose. Narcissa used the napkin before crumpling it in her hands and placing them in her lap. Bellatrix always had to say something about Andromeda helping her._

_"Here we are," their mother said as she stepped away from the counter, holding the tea tray before her and placed it on the table across from her daughters._

_Narcissa took her own teacup, the smallest one with the letter Andromeda told her was an "N" for her name and brought it to her nose. The steam rose in waves over the tea laced with the sweet smell of sugar and-_

_"Vanilla," Narcissa said with a smile at her mother before she put the cup to her lips._

_"Yes, dear," the older woman said as she brought her own cup to her lips. "I know how much you like it, and I want you to drink the entire cup before you go to bed. It will definitely help you sleep tonight."_

_Narcissa nodded into her cup as she took another sip. That definitely wouldn't be a problem. Vanilla tasted great and was much better than just adding sugar like her father liked._

_"Can I add some more to my tea, mother?" Bella asked in her nicest voice._

_Her mother raised a thin eyebrow but still handed the eldest girl the small bottle of black liquid. "All right then, but be careful, Bellatrix. Taste your tea after every drop," their mother warned._

_Narcissa watched as Bellatrix added one drop, then two, then three, but unfortunately the cover had slipped off the bottle, dumping way more than what Bellatrix had wanted and making a small mess on the table._

_The young girls held their breath and looked into their mother's face. They were thought to be proper young ladies, always neat and careful, never messy or untidy._

_But their mother just laughed and grabbed another napkin off the table, wiping the small black puddle quickly with her hand. "I'll pour you another cup, dear," she said as she took Bella's cup and walked back over to the kettle._

_Once she had returned to her seat and Bella had gotten her new cup, they spent the next few minutes laughing in the dim light of the sconces on the wall, just enjoying each others company. Their mother laughed at all their silly little jokes, Andromeda was more relaxed than Narcissa had ever seen her and even Bellatrix was warmed by the tea and the vanilla in her cup._

Narcissa sighed. She missed those times when life was simple. In the darkness, there was no need to be perfect and pristine. They could relax and everyone was happy. Now, their mother was too weak to even get out of bed, needing a house-elf to wait on her hand and foot, Bellatrix was in Azkaban for her loyalty to the Dark Lord, Andromeda had left the family and wasn't even to be thought about, and she was a mum herself.

"Mummy?" the little voice asked. "Tea!"

Narcissa pulled up her own sniffles and dabbed her eyes with the edge of her night robe. She couldn't be sad now. She had to be strong. "I'm coming, Draco," she said as she turned around and walked over to her sick son.

She placed his teacup down before him, a small one with the letter "D" on it. He picked it up carefully and brought it to his lips as she took a sip of her own. The lovely familiar smell wafted through her nostrils as Draco said, "Vanilla," with a smile to match her own.

She chuckled. "Yes, I know you like it."

"Because you like it, Mummy," he said cheekily before taking another sip.

Narcissa smiled and asked, "Draco, have I ever told you the story of your aunt?"

"You don't really talk about Auntie Bella anymore because she did bad things," Draco said.

"No, not Auntie Bella, your other aunt," Narcissa said. In the dark, there was no need to be perfect and pristine. Memories flooded back in the dark and she always wanted to be able to talk about her sister again and relive even more lovely memories.


	10. Lucius Malfoy

_A/N: Lucius is taking care of little Draco when he finds his old leather jacket._

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Perfumers Competition (and Challenge): **Armani Code Luna - leather - Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

Lucius ascended the stairs with head forward and his back straight, looking the perfect picture of calm and collected to anyone who seemed to be watching. However, as it were, there was no one in the Manor today except for himself and his son, Draco. Narcissa had gone to tea with Mrs Parkinson but if she could see him now, he was sure she would be able to tell all was not right.

_"If she were here, then she wouldn't have left me home alone with Draco and I wouldn't be in this mess"_, Lucius thought as he came onto the second floor landing.

Lucius had only been left with his son alone a few times since his birth, most times while he was still unable to crawl on his own. However, the three-year-old who was just playing in the front room at his feet with his blocks had waddled out of his sight and now Lucius had no idea where he could.

Lucius stopped on the landing and took a deep breath. He had to be clear and focus, not let his emotions and worry cloud his mind and judgement.

He opened his ears and listened. A three-year-old couldn't keep quiet for too long, especially if he thought himself cheeky enough to escape his father's watchful eyes.

A soft giggle came from one of the open doors up ahead and Lucius smirked. _Found you._

He took a few steps forward and peered around the opening. This was one of the many rooms they used for storage inside of guests, currently holding stacks of boxes and old clothes that hadn't been worn for years. It was dusty, dark, clustered but that mattered not to the small little boy who was crawling among the fringes of dresses and cloaks hung on the racks.

He entered the room and walked slowly up behind the little boy with an evil plan. He would scare Draco. That would teach him not to run off on his own again.

Draco then crawled back from out of the cloaks clutching a thick black leather jacket in his hand. The little boy giggled as he ran his hands across the material, the strong smell reaching even Lucius' nose and prompting him to stop.

He hadn't seen that jacket in years, a throwback to one of his more rebellious phases when he thought it was very fashionable.

It had been in his sixth year when he had gotten it on special order, away from home and prying eyes, but there was one person he wanted to see his new jacket. He had invited her to his dorm room one night after ensuring that none of his dorm-mates would be arriving any time soon. She had happily agreed and he smiled when he heard the soft knock on the door.

"Priscilla wondered what I was doing coming up here," Narcissa as she walked inside and he closed the door behind her.

"I'm sure she did. That girl has a mouth the size of a hippogriff," Lucius said. "By tomorrow, everyone will think something has happened here."

Narcissa gave him a smirk. "If Priscilla knows what's good for her, she won't say a thing about this. I saw her coming out of Montague's room the other night after hours and I'm sure they were doing much worse."

Lucius couldn't hide the grimace that crossed his face at Narcissa's words. So that had been the loud noises coming from the seventh years dorm room. They had all thought he had been killing someone's cat.

"So what did you have to show me?" Narcissa asked as she sat on the edge of Lucius' bed.

Lucius walked over to his trunk and said, "I got something in the mail today and I wanted to show you."

"This couldn't wait until morning?" Narcissa asked as Lucius took a few things out of his trunk to get the item near the bottom.

"This is for my eyes only, and yours," he said as he finally removed enough items. "Now, please close your eyes."

Narcissa did as she was asked and Lucius quickly slipped on his jacket. "All right. Open them," he said as he stood before her, feeling quite handsome and rugged in the leather.

Narcissa opened her eyes and stared at Lucius wordlessly. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, obviously not sure if she was seeing clearly and Lucius couldn't help but feel a bit awkward.

"Narcissa, say something," he prodded. Anything would have been better than the silence.

Then she let out a loud laugh and Lucius could feel his face redden. He hadn't been expecting that. But he could see the playful glint in her eyes and he began to smile. She wasn't being judgemental or mean. She just found it funny.

Narcissa hid her mouth behind her hand as she watched Lucius strut towards her, his shoulders appearing even broader beneath the leather jacket.

"I would have never pegged you for something like this, Lucius," Narcissa said.

Lucius frowned a bit. "So you don't think it looks good?" he asked.

Narcissa came up him and put her hands on his shoulders, smoothing out the leather beneath her fingers. "It looks very attractive and very tempting, actually," she whispered into her ear, tipping up on her toes to reach. "The smell is... intoxicating."

Lucius took a deep breath, the smell of the leather mixing with the delicate perfume on Narcissa's neck. "You smell intoxicating, my dear," Lucius said huskily back into her own ear as he leaned down to bite her neck.

"Daddy!" Draco cried as he turned to his father standing behind him.

Lucius shook his head, stopping the memory from going any further. He was home alone with Draco. It wouldn't bode well to get caught up thinking about what he and Narcissa had ended up doing immediately after (nothing too inappropriate. Narcissa retained her virtue though it had taken much of willpower to stop them before they got that far).

Lucius instead walked forward and picked his son up off the ground. "What are you doing in here, Draco?" Lucius asked, acting as if he just found the little boy.

Draco give him a bright smile and said, "Clothes!"

Lucius shook his head. "Come, let's go back downstairs. It's time for lunch," he said. He made to walk out of the musty closet but then stopped and bent to pick up the leather jacket. Maybe he could wear this tonight when Draco had been put to bed and relive some pleasant memories with his wife.


End file.
